clip all the stormsand place them on the kitchen tablearrange them in a bouquetcovered in green tissue paperI’ll wait for the stormsto mature and wiltbut I keep gazing at thefoot trodden doorstepwaiting for my calypso.

Together they take a breath
The air flows through, but she
chokes and gasps, her breath is shallow.
Can the air be any less bitter?
“Are you okay?” he
mentions in their passing break

They only see one another on their break
She wondered if he held his breath
when they pass each other, he
did. In the fleeting hope she
would become a lesser version of bitter

But that’s a lie, she wasn’t shallow,
just needed to have a bread
from himself. The wind was bitter
against the open lungs “take a breath
and exhale yourself into me” she
sighed. She looked so bright he

was blinded by her. Did he
believe himself to be shallow?
The world they live in she
felt a harmful way of a break
They both need to take a deep breath
and exhale their feelings of bitterness

Their facades have melted into their bitter
truth. “What is the truth?” he
asked. The world is softly taking it’s breath
together they will live in it’s shallow
lungs and swim in it’s bones, break
apart and sink deep down. She

will drown otherwise. With that she
will becomes and stay bitter
There isn’t the time for their break
The world is empty and he
is trying to be not as shallow
when he passes her, he holds his breath

She will break and collapse
under his bitter breath, loves
the shallow intake he provides.

We did this fun poetry exercise in my poetic voice class where we would take three words from the dictionary (we started with three adjectives but you can do whatever word you want) then what you do is you write the word and definition down. With that you have to create a poem only using the words in the definition and you use the three words in a title. Get it? It’s really difficult but a lot of fun.

*~*~*~*~*

The elastic feeling of being incapable with the nostalgic longing for you

Easily resume the lacking ability to be stretched
Stretched for the past
Shaped for the bittersweet longing

Being stretched after lacking the necessary past
Longing for being necessary
Easily resume the shape of the past

The bittersweet shape of longing
For the past, the necessary past.

*~*~*~*~*

So the words I got from the dictionary were: Elastic, Incapable and Nostalgic. Then the second one I did just know because I really had fun with the first one. I used the words: Epiphany, Cynical, and Vestige.

*~*~*~*~*

Does the vestige of my epiphany calculate for my cynicism towards us?

Believing a trace of disappearing people by appearance of divine standards
Disregarding only human integrity that is disappearing
Disappearing or no longer existing?

Believing a trace of integrity for one’s own self-interest
Typical appropriate standards are manifestations of no longer existing
Appearance of believing that people are distrustful of being motivated

Concerned only that people are no longer something
Something that disregarded sincerity of one’s own integrity
Accept or disregard a trace of something that longer exists.

Community; a noun; A group of people living together in one place, esp. one practicing common ownership: “a community of nuns”. A definition does give a true meaning. Community is more than just a group of people living together, you don’t have to be living together to be a community. A community is when a bunch of people take care and love one another. A community is more than just a group of people, it is the bond that the people share with one another, friend or not.

The streets were dark, all the lamps and power had gone out. The storm had done a number on the small town in Vermont. A soft glow came out of most houses, people were beginning to bring up their candles and lanterns from the basements. Smoke rose from one particular house on the street. Inside that house an old man who sat in front of the fire place.

His legs were stretched out as he laid back on the couch. His daughter was off checking up on her kids, making sure they were alright. The old man stared at the fire, it tickled and danced upon the wood, occasionally spiting at the old man for staring at it. The old man was interrupted by his grandchildren who were screaming at one another as they ran down the stairs. They gallivanted into the living room, the eldest Eve pushed her little brother Marc out of the way so she could sit next to the old man.

“Mama said that if we asked you nicely you would tell us a story,” Eve said proudly as she snuggled into her grandfather.

“Did she now?” The old man asked as he pulled Marc up onto his lap.

Marc smiled and nodded “Yes she did!”

“So pleeeeease grandpa! Will you tell us a story!” Eve said, drawing out the e’s in please.

The old man tired to hide a smile, “I dunno I am a busy man.”

“Oh please please please!” The two begged.

The old man laughed, “oh alright I guess I can spare one story, what do you want to hear?”

“The one about how you and grandma met!” Marc piped up quietly.

The old man smiled sadly, “how me and grandma met eh? Alright, well. It was about 50 years ago, I was in my early 20s and your grandma had just turned 19. We lived in the same neighborhood for a few years but we never spoke to one another. I always tended to stay inside my house, I wasn’t much for socializing. But I worked at the Summer Festivals that our town put on every year. Her birthday just happened to land on the opening night of the Summer Festivals. Her friends decided to take her out that night.”

The old man was interrupted, “is that when you two met? Did you kiss her? Is that when you two fell in love?” Marc blurted out.

“Yes Marc that was when we met. I can still remember to this day what it was like. The festival was out on the board walk, the air smelled of bad fired food and the sea salt from the ocean it was by. I was there working, I worked the Ferris Wheel. It wasn’t the best job, I would watch happy couples go on it. Sometimes someone would propose on the top and they would come down beaming or in one case in tears. That job made me feel lonely, but it’s how I met your grandma. She was in line with her girlfriends who were chattering around her, she looked bored. Beautiful and bored. Her hair was orange and curly bring out the green in her eyes so perfectly. I used to call her Emerald because of the color of her eyes. She had this beautiful baby blue polka-dot dress on that went down to her knees. She was the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She held herself in confidence, but you could tell she was shy by the way she held her arms in front of her chest. As she got closer in the line, the butterflies began to multiply in my stomach. Then suddenly she was next in line. ‘Lacy, we’re next come on, give the man your ticket.’ her friend said snapping her out of her daydream. She shook her head, rustling her curls and looked at me with her bright green eyes. She apologized and handed me the ticket. Her voice was soft and melodic, I fumbled with the line I always said to people ‘have a nice ride.’ She giggled and gave me a cute smile before running off to catch up with her friends. Her hair smelt like peaches and cream as she ran past me.

Later that night I was closing up the food stand, another job of mine I had, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and there she was. At first I was confused at why she was there. She stuck her hand out to introduce herself, I managed to grasp her hand and spill my name out. She giggled at my shyness. She said she recognized me from around the street and decided to wait for me to finish up so I wouldn’t have to walk home alone. Her kindness took me off guard. But her kindness led to our future. We ended up taking the longest way home possible, and talked into the dead of night.”

“That’s it! You met at a festival?” Eve asked, feeling a little put down at how ordinary her grandparents met. She thought their story was more romantic.

“I think it’s soooooo cute and wonderful,” Marc gushed, he liked the simplicity at the story. He cuddled into the old man and closed his eyes, letting the heat of the flames cover him like a blanket.

Ellie walked down the main street, her heart racing from running away from her loud friends. They were teasing Ellie for liking her, none of her friends like her. They thought she was rude and unnecessarily rude to people around her. But Ellie saw the beauty in her. The way she would flip her hair as she was beginning to work, or how she bite her lip when thinking. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown that Ellie could stare at forever. There was a time when Ellie accidentally bumped into her, their skin barley touched but it left a tingle in Ellie’s arm for the rest of the day.

Jonie made a snort noise and continued walking towards Ellie’s house in silence. Their other friend Pete caught up to them, sensing the tension between the two he did not say anything. They weren’t that far from Ellie’s house, so the walk wasn’t too awkward. But as they got closer to her house they noticed a red bike laying across the grassy yard.

“Did one of you guys bike here and I didn’t notice?” Ellie asked.

“No, that isn’t ours.”

They were puzzled by the mystery bike but shrugged it off figuring it was one of Ellie’s little brothers bike or something. They walked into the small house, kicking their shoes off in the door frame, and traipsed into the kitchen. But there was someone sitting at the kitchen table, with long black hair that was pulled into a bun, sitting atop her head.

“Is that her bike?” Pete asked.

The girl turned around, a cute smile on her delicate face. “I have a name.” she said, a corner on her mouth turned upward into a smirk.

“Christina what are you doing here?” Ellie asked, paying no attention to the glares her friends were giving her.

“I came here to talk to you alone,” her chocolate eyes were glaring at the two teenager behind Ellie. “Do you mind?”

Ellie opened her mouth, but the words would not fall from her tongue.

“It’s fine, we’ll leave.” Pete pipped up. Ellie looked over at him, not expecting to say that. “Just call us after or something.”

Jonie glared at Pete but allowed him to drag her out of the house. The two girls were left alone in the house, both staring at the doorway. Christina stood up, gaining Ellie’s attention.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Ellie said, her voice quieter than usual.

Christina walked closer to Ellie, making Ellie feel like she had just begun to run and she was out of breath. Her hands became sweaty and she grew nervous. The look in Christina’s eyes was something Ellie had never seen. Christina stopped right in front of Ellie’s face, their noses almost touching. Ellie could smell her perfume, cotton candy and a hint of coffee. Ellie drew in her breath slowly, not wanting to seem to nervous.

“Uh..wh-” Ellie began to speak but was cut off by Christina putting her soft lips on hers.